Good News Bad News
by Medie Shanachie
Summary: Lone wolves don't always break their habits, but they may change things a bit.


**Disclaimer: **_I don't own Eliot Spencer or Leverage. I do own this plot and the various OCs scattered through-out._  
**Spoilers:** Show--none, Past Revealed--Don't read if you haven't figured stuff out yet  
**Summary:** Lone wolves don't always break their habits, but they may change things a bit.  
**Author's Note:** If you haven't figured out what Eliot's connection to Bri and Ben is and you don't want to be spoiled--DON'T READ THIS! This *points to story* is so not what I planned to write today. I wanted to work on their meeting or possibly on the last story in my Numb3rs series, Little Sisters Quartet, but Bri and Eliot insisted on me sharing _this_ story.

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_I need to see you._

Eliot knew who the message was from. Even knew what she probably wanted, especially when it was followed by three times and places in case he couldn't make the first one. But he wasn't sure if it was what he wanted. It wasn't a job, if it had been a job, she would have said she had an opportunity or an idea or something fun. No, if she needed something...it was personal.

He missed the first meeting, more by accident than design. Her choice had been Madrid; he was in Paris. He realized he had missed the meeting in the middle of an altercation and it annoyed him more than pissed him off; annoyed him just enough that he made short work of the man in front of him and finished up the job he was on. He refused the next couple of jobs he was offered and made plans to meet her at the next place.

He wasn't sure why she picked Cancún, but he moved easily through the tourists, ignoring them as he made his way to the bar she had named. Entering, he allowed his eyes to adjust to the light, although he had easily spotted her.

Her hair was black this time; maybe to make her blend in better, but he doubted it. Her hair color changed by her mood, not her location. And her skin was too pale for the color to be a good cover. She wore a peasant blouse, but it was red, not white, and a flowing skirt that ended just below her knees. She had a Corona on the table in front of her, but it hadn't been touched and her hands were playing with the glass that also shared the table. The lack of alcohol wasn't unusual. She drank to blend or when she was relaxed, but she didn't drink _to_ relax so she was tense about something. Waiting for him for a liaison wasn't enough to tense her up though. Something else was going on.

Skirting the room, he came up behind her and lay a heavy hand on her bare shoulder as he leaned down. "Waiting for someone, darlin'?" he drawled in her ear.

"A friend," she answered, "but I'm not sure if he'll show."

"Pretty thing like you shouldn't be sitting alone in a bar," Eliot continued their charade. The bar wasn't the roughest place in town, but it also wasn't one of the upper end tourist bars either.

"Oh, I can take care of myself." She reached back, sliding a familiar hand along his leg. "Wanna sit?" Eliot came around, taking the seat she had left him. Her table was at the back of the bar and let them both put their backs to the wall. She nudged the beer towards him and he drew it closer, but didn't drink. "Don't trust me?" she asked.

He quirked a smile and popped the top off, taking a slug. "What's going on, Bri?"

"Just wanted to see you," she said. "No reason."

He raised his eyebrows at that. "Yeah. Which is why you gave me three meeting times and places. And all of them were very public. What gives?"

Bri toyed with her mug again and he noted it was tea; hot tea, which was an odd choice for the climate, but something he knew soothed her and something she had picked up from him. "I've been sick lately and I finally went to see a friend of mine who's a doctor." She obviously had a thought, a memory and it was a good one. "Or, well, has access to doctors."

"So, what, you're dying and you wanted to confess something before the final day?" he asked.

"No, Eliot, I'm _not_ dying," she snapped. She shoved her chair back, getting to her feet. "Ya know what? Never mind. This was a bad idea."

Eliot watched her stalk from the bar; watched the other men eye her like she was nothing more than a piece of meat and knew he had said the wrong thing. He groaned. He needed to know why she had arranged this because it obviously wasn't for them both to scratch an itch. Grabbing the beer, he drained it before slamming the bottle back on the table. Tossing a few bills down, he hurried after her.

Outside, he looked both ways trying to find her in the ebb and flow of people around him. A glimpse of color, a turn of a shoulder, hair flicked just _that_ way caught his attention and he took off after her.

Catching up to her, he grabbed her by the arm and spun her around. When she banged into him, he locked her against his body; revealing in the feel of her softness against his muscles. This _this_ was right, despite their arguing, despite everything. When they were together like this, everything felt just fine. He frowned as he registered something different and watched her eyes widen. "The hell?" he demanded.

"Not here," she said quickly. "Just. I'll explain, but not here, okay?"

He let her pull away, but didn't turn her loose. "Where?"

"I've got a room. There?" she asked, tentatively--like she wasn't sure he would agree.

Eliot let go of her this time and motioned for her to proceed him. "Lead the way."

They didn't say anything as Bri wound her way through the streets to the hotel she had chosen. It wasn't a tourist place, but not the dredges either and Eliot knew she had picked it because the staff would be discreet. No one blinked when he entered with her and she stopped at the desk for messages, chatting for a moment with the man on duty in Spanish. Eliot's Spanish was good enough to get some information and curse people out, but he couldn't follow the fast moving conversation that Bri was involved in. She accepted a piece of paper, glancing at it before tucking it down her shirt. Eliot exercised control not to watch her fingers slip down her shirt and between her breasts.

Up in her room, she fluttered for a moment, not sure where to alight. "I'm not gonna hit ya, Bri," he pointed out. "I've _never_ hit you so what are you nervous about?"

"Um, that's a lie," she cracked, reminding him of the first time they had met. "We've fought enough."

"In the ring or when you've challenged me is different," Eliot replied. "Sit down, Bri, and tell me what's going on. If you aren't dying, what's going on?" To calm her, he took a seat, relaxing back in the overstuffed chair. He was at ease in her presence; more so than with most people and he knew that sitting would help calm her. It wouldn't prevent him from going after her if he needed to, but it would relax her if he was sitting.

Bri perched on the couch and clasped and unclasped her hands, staring at them, not at him. "The doctor ran some tests."

Eliot tried to be patient, but now that she had agreed to tell him; he just wanted her to do it. "And they came back negative so you're nervous and worried." He reached out to her, running a hand down her hair when she leaned into his touch. "Why all the suffrage, darlin'? I told you if you needed to see me, all you had to do was call."

"They didn't all come back negative, Eliot. One test, one very important test, came back positive." Bri looked up, meeting his blue eyes with her green ones, as she finished, "I'm pregnant, Eliot."

His breath went out in a whoosh as if he had been sucker punched and he fell back against the chair. "Pregnant?" he questioned.

She nodded, fidgeting with her hands as she watched him.

"Mine?" he asked.

She nodded again and rushed on before he could say something, "I don't want anything from you. I don't want your name or money or anything. I just...I thought you should know."

He eyed her, understanding what he had been feeling when they had been pressed together. She was far enough along now that she was showing; her body was already changing with the child that was growing inside her. "You're keeping it?" he asked.

"Him and yes. Like I said I don't _want_ anything from you, but I wanted you to know. I felt you had the right to know."

"And if _I_ want something? If I _want_ to know my son? If I want to be a part of his life?" Eliot asked, trying to hold his temper and wrap his mind around the fact that the woman sitting a few feet from him had his _child_ resting in her belly. He had never considered children, had never thought it was a viable option, but apparently it was going to come true in a few months. He didn't even question that she was telling him the truth. Bri had lied to him, but never about anything important and if this wasn't important--nothing between them ever had been.

"Then we talk, we make an arrangement. I don't want marriage or anything that entails. I'm not giving up my life or my freedom anymore than I have to. And he _won't_ have your name."

Eliot could tell by her stance that there was no changing her mind on that. She'd had months to think about this, to make her decisions, and to figure out how to tell him. "I can't make any choices now," he told her. "But I don't want to be cut out. I want to know him and him to know me."

She nodded. "Okay. But that's it. No Southern gestures. No anything else. I can take care of both of us."

"You're going to keep working?"

"I'm taking time off now. I'm not exactly balanced normally anymore and he tends to shift at the most inopportune moments. Plus I don't want to take a chance on him getting hurt, but after wards," she nodded. "Yeah. I'll go back to work."

"Where?" he asked, then stopped, not positive she would tell him.

"I've got a ranch. A home in Idaho. It's closed up now, but it won't take much to open it up, make it livable, and hire workers and buy stock. I've got the money for that."

He nodded, already planning how he would get money to her and have his hand in hiring people that he could trust. She didn't even need to know if she was going to protest. "I'd like to see it, if I may."

"I don't know, Eliot."

"If I'm going to be part of his life..." he trailed off. "I might visit him there."

"Yeah. Maybe. We'll see. It doesn't have to be decided now."

He looked her over, trying to decide if he could make out the changes, but he didn't know enough about pregnant women. Motioning to her belly, he asked, "Can I see?" She nodded, standing up and as she began to untuck her shirt, he added, "How far along are you?"

She pulled her skirt down so it rested under the swell of her stomach and grinned at him before pulling her shirt over her head. She tossed it behind her, then rested her hands on her hips. She wasn't wearing a bra, but her small breasts were fuller and could probably use one although he knew she preferred tight tank tops to even sports bras. The swell was prominent now and the cause obvious. "Six months," she answered softly when he just sat there staring. He reached out and she moved closer so they met half-way, his callused fingers grazing her skin. She caught his hand, spreading his fingers with hers and pressing more firmly. "He's pretty well protected. You can't hurt him just by touching." She smiled down at him as he explored slowly. "I think he's sleeping."

"You have a plan?" he asked.

"The beginnings of one." She winced. "Looks like he's awake now." She moved her hand on her own stomach, then moved his to the place she found. "Here." A moment later, he felt something hit his hand. She grinned at the look on his face. "Yeah. He punches like you."

It hadn't truly been real until he felt the baby move; saw the changes in her body. He looked up at Bri, met her eyes, saw a happiness, a contentment he hadn't seen before. "I want to know my son," he told her.

She ran a hand through his hair, gently drawing him closer until his head rested against his belly. "I won't deny you if that's what you want."


End file.
